


Awkward Turtle

by the_empty_man



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: A Lot of Awkwardness, Domestic, Eiffel is bad at small talk, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Koudelka has no idea what's going on, Minkowski and Eiffel are weird bffs, Minkowski is bad at cooking, Mostly Fluff, Some angst, Some humour, Trauma, back home, back on earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-15 00:49:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11794986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_empty_man/pseuds/the_empty_man
Summary: Ten days after Renée Minkowski turned up on her husband's doorstep back from the dead, she persuades Eiffel to come round for dinner. Because that's what normal friends do. Unfortunately, normal is still a bit ambitious for them.Plus misjudged fistbumbs, Gordon Ramsay, skoodly-pooping, unexpected revelations and the Doug Eiffel wellbeing check-up squad.





	Awkward Turtle

Like almost everything, hugs felt different on earth. For one thing, they weren’t floating. Eiffel still found the lack of weightlessness oppressive. Gravity held him and Minkowski to the floor, trapping them, making the heaviness in his chest literal. And with both their feet on the ground, Eiffel had to adjust to how short Minkowski actually was. Somehow, on the Hephaestus she'd always managed to float higher than him, but he realised now that she barely made it up to his chin. He had to crouch slightly to properly return the hug. 

But some things were the same as they had been on the Hephaestus. Minkowski squeezed him with the same aggressive tightness, holding him too long, like she was afraid he'd disappear if she let go. Eiffel found he was grateful for the certainty of her arms around him. 

"I thought you weren't going to come," she said, smiling into his shoulder.

"Oh, ye of little faith! Of course, I came!" Eiffel drew back from the hug and tried to look surprised that she would doubt him. He had in fact been strongly tempted not to come. The idea of coming to Minkowski’s actual house, in this fancy neighbourhood, with her husband there, weirded Doug out. He’d never been a dinner party kind of person anyhow. But for some reason, this meant a lot to the Commander. She wanted them to be normal friends now. And apparently having friends round for dinner was something normal people did. So here he was, standing in Minkowski’s tastefully decorated hallway, feeling incredibly out of place.

Even just seeing the Commander in a blouse and cardigan, rather than her Goddard Futuristics uniform, seemed unnatural; it was like seeing a lion curled up by someone's fireside.

She was inspecting him now, looking him up and down with concern. He realised he was bouncing on the balls of his feet. He tried to stay still, but having his feet settled flat on the floor was unnerving. 

“Are you okay?” she asked seriously. He rolled his eyes. 

“Commander, you asked me that on the phone half an hour ago.” She’d asked him that approximately every half hour since they’d got back to earth. It was like being tracked full-time by the Doug Eiffel wellbeing check-up squad.

“And you didn’t give me a proper answer then either.” He got a flash of the trademarked Commander Minkowski be-honest-with-me glare (Eiffel was familiar with at least 70 of her different signature dirty looks and was terrified of all of them).

“I’m fine, Commander,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Are you?”

“Not really.” Of course, she wasn’t. How could she be? He didn’t know how to tell her that he understood, that he worried about her the same way she worried about him, that he needed her to be alright. Instead he shrugged and gave her a pat on the back.

Minkowski nodded at him and shook herself. “I don’t where Dominic’s got to,” she muttered. She turned to call up the stairs. “Come and meet Doug!”

Eiffel's restlessness intensified. He was shifting from foot to foot, looking down at his figeting hands. “Oh, your husband?" he said, with unconvincing surprise. "Is he... I mean, I don't think... He doesn’t have…" He'd known her husband would be here, but the prospect of actually meeting Mr Koudelka made him more nervous than he’d expected. He was reminded absurdly of waiting on Kate’s doorstep to meet her parents. He’d felt the same anticipation then, the same need to be approved of, though for different reasons.

He wished Lovelace was here, but almost as soon as they'd got back to Earth, the captain had set off to find the families of her previous crew. She would be in Lyon by now, speaking to Victorie Fourier's parents. Sure, Lovelace wasn't exactly a master of etiquette either, but she wouldn't be as ridiculously anxious as Doug felt right now.

Mr Koudelka came down the stairs and joined them in the hallway.

"Dominic, this is Eif- I mean- Doug. Doug, this is my husband Dominic," Minkowski said, formally, looking between the two men who meant so much to her. 

Dominic reached out for a handshake at the same moment as Eiffel went for a fistbump. Their hands collided awkwardly and retreated quickly. For a moment, Doug and Dominic just looked at each other, pairing the person in front of them with what they knew. 

Dominic smiled at Eiffel, trying not to show how he was disconcerted by the person in front of him. He’d seen photos of Officer Douglas Eiffel: the professional portrait in Renée's briefing file, the group picture Goddard had released just before the launch, the snapshot they'd paired with his obituary... Those pictures had shown a tall, slightly chubby man with shaggy shoulder-length hair. 

The man in front of Dominic was recognisable as the same person, but only just. He was gaunt, skeletal even. His eye sockets were hollow and his clothes (a scruffy pair of jeans and a t-shirt with a faded slogan) hung loosely off him. His short hair grew in uneven clumps, with a few patches of his scalp showing through. Renée hadn't said anything about Doug having been ill, but then she'd barely told Dominic anything at all. 

"So, you're Mr Mincowski huh?" Eiffel mispronounced Renée’s name. Dominic was surprised she hadn’t beaten that out of him in four years, but she didn’t even seem to have noticed.

"Actually, it's Mr Koudelka, but please, call me Domi-"

"I meant Minkowski," Eiffel interupted, correcting his pronounciation. Renée smiled and led them through to the kitchen.

"Would you like something to drink, Eiffel? Juice? Cordial? Lemonade? Tea? Coffee?" She gestured to the abnormally large selection of soft drinks laid out in the counter. Renée had already told Dominic that Doug shouldn’t be around alcohol so he poured himself a glass of orange juice. Eiffel asked for a coffee, which he proceeded to put five spoonfuls of sugar into.

“It looks like you’ve got quite a sweet tooth there,” Dominic commented jokingly. 

“Making up for lost time,” Doug replied, adding another spoonful as if to prove his point. Renée moved the sugar bowl away from him. “We ran out of sugar around Day 200. And the coffee on the Hephaestus…” He pulled an exaggerated grimace. 

“Please don’t remind me,” Minkowski shuddered. “I can’t believe we drank that.”

“Do you think Hilbert made it that disgusting on purpose?” Eiffel mused, with an almost nostalgic smile. “No, he wasn’t that cruel,” he answered himself. Renée chuckled. Dominic realised how unfamiliar the sound was to him. He hadn’t heard her laugh since she’d left for the mission. He felt a slight twinge of jealousy for Doug, who was able to make her laugh with such ease. “That coffee could be used as a chemical weapon,” Doug continued. 

“It’s probably already outlawed by the UN,” Minkowski grinned. “Anyway, you two can go through to the dining room. I just need to finish cooking.”

“Oh,” said Eiffel, surprised. “Err, alright.” He gave an odd laugh. “I kind of assumed he would be the cook out of you, to be honest." Dominic wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He didn’t particularly like the sense that Eiffel had been speculating about the dynamics of his marriage. To be fair, he wasn’t wrong. Dominic did usually do most of the cooking. But Renée had insisted that she wanted to cook tonight. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Renée asked. She sounded slightly offended, but she was still smiling.

"Well, you know, you aren't exactly Gordon Ramsay."

"I didn't hear you complaining when I made Thanksgiving dinner," she retorted. Dominic pushed away the thought of how lonely and uncomfortable Thanksgiving at his parents the last few years had been without Renée. Instead, he tried to imagine her, Doug and that Dr Hilbert sitting down to roast turkey on the space station, like the world’s strangest family; the image was so bizarre that he almost laughed. 

"By that stage I'd forgotten what food was supposed to taste like,” Doug joked. “I wasn't in a position to be picky." 

Dominic decided to steer the other man out of the kitchen towards the living room. “Come on, Doug. We’ll leave Renée to cook.” 

***

Eiffel sat perched on the opposite end of the sofa to Dominic, his long legs stretched out in the air in front of him so they didn’t touch the floor. For a few seconds, neither of them said anything. Dominic was just about to open his mouth to ask how Eiffel was finding being back on earth again, when Doug put his coffee mug down and said “So…,” stretching out the sound to highlight the silence. He put one hand on top of the other, palms face down, curled his fingers over and started moving his thumbs in little circular motions.

“What are you doing?” Dominic couldn’t help but ask, nodding towards his hands.

“Awkward turtle,” said Doug, matter-of-factly. “Don’t you know it?” He acted as if this was an essential piece of knowledge that Koudelka was lacking.

“No…” Dominic was slightly non-plussed. He wondered how on earth this was meant to move conversation forward.

Doug started to demonstrate a series of increasingly ridiculous hand gestures, as if keen to show off his knowledge. “Awkward baby turtles. Awkward whale. Awkward turkey.” Dominic was beginning to question how Renée had coped, spending four years in an enclosed space with this grown man who used children’s hand gestures to deal with social interactions. “Awkward giraffe. Awkward penguin. Awkward jellyfis-” 

“I get the picture,” Dominic interrupted Eiffel before he had demonstrated an entire Noah’s Ark of awkward animals. "What happened up there? On the Hephaestus?" He asked before he could stop himself. It wasn’t good journalism, to come straight out with the question like that. When he interviewed subjects, Dominic would start by asking small things, build up trust before going in with the big questions. But he couldn't be restrained here. This question had been beating away in his brain since Renée had returned. Actually, it’d been gnawing at him for longer than that. He’d been desperate for answers since they’d told her she was dead. Or since before then even. For near four years. 

"She hasn’t told you anything?” Eiffel looked up from his hands, taken aback.

“Well, no. Not really. She says she doesn’t want to talk about it yet.” Dominic hated going behind Renée’s back like this. He hated that she didn’t trust him enough to open up about what she’d been through. He hated seeing her so changed and not knowing why. He hated that Doug understood his wife in ways Dominic never could. 

“Dude, if she doesn’t want to tell you yet, I don’t think I can...” 

"Please. I need to know what happened. I need to know how I can help her!"

"Look, Minkowski is really fucking strong.” Eiffel said her name correctly this time. “You probably know that even better than I do. It takes some serious shit to shake her.” Dominic heard genuine respect, even awe, in Doug’s voice. “Well... some serious shit happened. She’ll need time."

"Is it true that two people died?" Renée had blurted that out once when he asked her about what had happened in space. 

Eiffel took a deep breath and ran a hand through his uneven mess of hair. “Yeah." 

"Fucking hell,” Dominic muttered. It occurred to Dominic that if Renée couldn’t talk about what happened, this man with wounded eyes probably wouldn’t be able to either. Doug opened his mouth as if to say more, but stopped. “Can you at least tell me why Goddard said you'd died?" Dominic asked.

"We still don't really underst-” A blaring alarm cut Eiffel off. His whole body tensed. He sprang to his feet with a speed and alertness that belied Dominic's previous impressions of laziness and poor fitness. "Hera-" he called out in a cracked voice. Dominic started to tell him that it was just the smoke alarm, but Doug had already sped past him. Dominic followed, stopping in the hall to press the button that reset the alarm, which had always been a bit over-sensitive, before rushing through to the kitchen. 

There was an unpleasant smell in the air and one of the many pans that crowded the hob was smoking. Doug was sitting on a dining chair, almost hyperventilating, shaking with each short irregular breath. Renée was leaning against the table, facing away from Dominic, her hair frizzy from steam. 

"Doug, are you alright?" Dominic asked, as he opened the back door to let out the smoke.

Doug took a few quick breaths and stood up uncertainly. “Yeah, it's just... Alarms freak me out, you know?" Renée moved towards her friend and Dominic saw with surprise his wife looked as disturbed as Eiffel. She was trembling and her eyes had a panicked look he’d never seen before. 

“Renée…” he whispered. Seeing her like that scared him. He wasn’t even sure whether she heard him as she put her arms around Doug.

"It's alright," she muttered. "We're not running out of oxygen, we're not falling into the star, nobody is dying, nothing is on fire..." Dominic felt so helpless. He wished there was something he could do to take away her trauma. But he couldn’t even hold her, because she was hugging Eiffel. He just stood there like a third wheel, knowing he couldn't understand either of them.

"Darling, are you…? Do you want me to take over with the cooking?"

"No, I can do this," she said, pulling away from Eiffel and finally looking at Dominic. “I can do this.” Her determined voice only shook slightly.

***

An hour later, the meal was finally served up. Minkowski couldn’t help thinking that her charred pierogi proved Eiffel’s assessment of her cooking skills correct, but somehow, he had restrained himself from commenting.

For a few minutes, the clinking of cutlery and Eiffel’s unpleasantly loud chewing were the only sounds. She ran through conversation topics in her head. Eiffel was one of her closest friends, more like a member of her family really; it shouldn't have been this difficult. But it was different with Dominic there. And they'd never had to make dinner party conversation before. When you've nearly died together as many times as they had, small talk doesn't seem very important.

“How did you end up working for Goddard then, Doug?” Dominic asked, innocently. Minkowski regretted that she hadn't briefed Dominic on things not to talk to Eiffel about. His backstory wasn’t exactly pleasant conversation for a first meeting. 

Eiffel looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. He’d seemed uncomfortable pretty much all evening, much to Minkowski’s dismay, but now he looked like he’d rather be sucked out of an airlock than answer that question. “Punishment for my sins,” he muttered into his food. Dominic laughed awkwardly, obviously assuming that was just a joke, instead of an unpleasant truth. He pressed on with the question.

“But what made you decid-" 

"Oh, let's not talk about Goddard Futuristics!" Minkowski cut her husband off with a forced smile. A look of relief washed over Eiffel’s face. Minkowski understood how he felt. Dominic’s endless curiosity was one of the reasons she’d fallen in love with him, but since she’d got back, she’d found his persistence more frustrating than endearing. 

Unfortunately, given that Goddard Futuristics had dominated her and Eiffel's lives for the last four years, not talking about them rather restricted possible conversations. This time it was Eiffel who broke the silence.

"Hey Dom, can you persuade Minkowski to watch Games of Thrones?” Minkowski groaned audibly. He was so predictable sometimes. She was fed-up of hearing about that show. “I keep trying to tell her how good it is, but she won't listen to me!"

“Doug, I’m not going to watch it!” she told him (for at least the fifteenth time).

"To be honest, fantasy's not really my thing either," Dominic admitted, diplomatically.

"Oh, come on... I need someone to talk about last season with," Eiffel insisted.

"Wait...” Something was dawning on Dominic. “You've been on Earth less than two weeks and you're already caught up on Game of Thrones?" He sounded incredulous.

“Yep,” Eiffel declared proudly.

Minkowski sighed. "I can't believe I had any faith you would make good use of being back on Earth." She wondered whether he would leave his room at all if she didn’t force him.

"I only had four seasons left to watch. Of course, I had to get through House of Cards and Mr Robot first, but..." He shrugged. “I’m watching Stranger Things now.” Minkowski hated to think of Eiffel spending all day in his grimy little bedsit staring at his laptop. It was one thing to enjoy films and tv, but she worried he was shutting out the real world. She’d asked him several times whether he would come and live with her, where she could keep an eye on him, but he’d always refused.

“Eiffel…” she injected all her concern into her voice. “You know my offer still stands.” Dominic gave her a quizzical look. She realised she had never mentioned to him that she wanted Eiffel to move in with them. She could talk to him about it later. She was sure he’d understand that Eiffel needed their help. “We’ve got a sofa bed. You’ll always be welcome-”

“You’re not my mother, Commander. I’m doing fine where I am.” His serious expression gave way to a stupid grin. “I know you miss having my wonderful charm and grace around at all times…” She groaned, although it was partly true that she missed his constant presence.

***

She should have known they couldn’t go the entire evening without Eiffel putting his foot in his mouth. She should have known that he would have to say something stupid at some point. Really it was impressive they’d gotten all the way to dessert before he said “Dom, you should have heard how surprised I was when I heard the Commander had a husband!” Minkowski’s heart plummeted. She tried to give Eiffel a look to tell him he needed to shut up right now, but he seemed to impervious to her glare. 

Dominic looked puzzled. "What? Why would you be surprised?" he asked, unsettled.

Minkowski even tried kicking Eiffel under the table, but he ploughed on obliviously,. "You work with someone for nearly two years and you think you know them well enough, and then a piece of backstory like that comes along and it's like Bam! Ka pow! That was an unexpected revelation!" Eiffel laughed, as though it was just a really funny story and not something that could potentially break up her marriage. Then he finally seemed to notice his companion’s faces. Dominic’s expression was contorting through confusion, disbelief, sadness and anger.

"Two years? You pretended I didn't exist for two years?" he asked, raising his voice and standing up to emphasise his words. 

"No! I just... None of them ever asked! We didn't talk about home much! It wasn't like Doug was pouring out his family history either," she said with a pointed look at Eiffel. She knew that was a low blow, but he deserved it. His eyes were wide in the 'Oh no, I fucked up' face that was irritatingly familiar to Minkowski. How ironic would it be if, after all those times she'd saved his life, she killed him now because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Are you telling me it never came up for two years?" Dominic shouted, disbelieving.

"We weren't really having personal conversations…”

“'By the way, I’m married’ is not a particularly personal conversation! Why would you keep that a secret?” Dominic was looking between Renée and Doug, his face twitching. "Unless... you two... You didn't want him to know because you and him were..." When she realised what he was implying, Renée didn't know whether she wanted to throw up or burst out laughing.

Instead she stood up, looked her husband in the eyes and spoke seriously. "I love you, Dominic. I'd never cheat on you." He nodded slightly. "And certainly not with Eiffel!" she added, grimacing.

"Wait, what?" Doug almost choked. "No offense to either of you," he said through his shocked laughter, "but seriously? Ewww! No way! Gross!"

"Well, how am I supposed to know what went on up there?" Dominic asked defensively, but slightly vindicated.

"Trust us, we don't even know what went on up there," Minkowski sighed.

"But there was no skoodly-pooping on that station," Eiffel said, his laughter slowly subsiding.

"Skoodly-pooping?" Dominic raised an eyebrow derisively at Eiffel's word choice, although he actually found it reassuring. He knew his wife could never have intercourse with someone who called it skoodly-pooping.

"Doug always talks like a fourth grader with a questionable taste in entertainment," Renée said apologetically. 

"Except for Kepler and Jacobi. They were definitely getting it on." Eiffel said as a correction to his last statement.

Minkowski sighed despairingly. "Oh, for God's sakes, Eiffel..." She had heard far too much speculation from him about the sex lives of the SI-5 agents. "Can you not?" 

"Oh come on, it was obvious Kepler had been riding Jacobi hard for years!" Eiffel insisted. Minkowski put her head in her hands. 

"On that traumatic note, I think it's time for you to leave, Doug."

***

"Wow," said Dominic after they shut the door behind Eiffel. "He's... a character." Renée smiled at his attempt to be diplomatic.

"I prefer to say a complete and utter pain in the arse." 

"That too." Dominic laughed. "But I'm glad you've got him to help you through." 

Renée pulled a face. "God, if you'd told me at the beginning of the mission that Doug Eiffel would be this important to me, I would have said you'd gone mad."

"Things change, I guess."

"Not everything," she whispered, pulling Dominic close and kissing him softly. She breathed in the human scent of him. "I'll tell you all about it one day. Just not yet."

**Author's Note:**

> According to my extremely cursory googling of Polish food, pierogi are a kind of stuffed dumpling. I'm not even sure if it is possible to burn them, but oh well.
> 
> Anyway thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think! (If people like this, I'll write more Back Home stories, cos I definitely have more headcanons!)


End file.
